


A Lesson in Painting

by BreatheInBreatheOutMoveOn



Category: Persona 5, persona - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Save Me, Shukita - Freeform, Shukita Smut, Smut, This poor boy, Yusuke is so innocent, body painting, paint, save him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 07:24:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10714899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreatheInBreatheOutMoveOn/pseuds/BreatheInBreatheOutMoveOn
Summary: “You got me… paints?” Yusuke tilts his head to one side, reforming the statement into a question as he peels open the unmarked plastic bag between them with one finger.“Yusuke… it’s not just paint.” His voice sounds soft and warm in Yusuke’s ear, and when he glances over his eyes almost cross from Akira’s sheer proximity to his face......   “-It’s edible paint.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't ready to do any writing again and so sorry if this is rough but like... I had to write this before someone else did.

    “You got me… paints?” Yusuke tilts his head to one side, reforming the statement into a question as he peels open the unmarked plastic bag between them with one finger.

 

    The question settles in the air between them as the two fall into silence, their quiet breathing and the muted rustle of Yusuke’s finger twisting in the plastic of the bag, the only noises in the otherwise quiet attic. Faintly, Yusuke can hear the sounds of Sojiro closing the cafe below them, the occasional clatter of coffee cups or muffled rattle of coffee beans in glass jars drifting through the uninsulated space between cafe LeBlanc's ceiling and the wooden floorboards of Akira’s room.

    “You like them?” Akira hums, and for some reason he makes the question sound more suggestive than Yusuke thinks the situation warrants.

 

    He shifts on the floor, bare feet scraping on the large strip of canvas that Akira had rolled out on his bedroom floor before Yusuke had arrived. Akira just grins a bit wider, the expression peeling back his lips in a sort of smirk that splits his whole face open, his manner unabashed and inexplicably smug.

    The intensity of his stare is one that Yusuke has learned Akira has specifically on his own. Grey, sparkling eyes smiling along with the upward turn of his lips. It’s a look that suits him, although he’s fairly certain any look would suit Akira. Yusuke would tell him so, he’s never been one to mince words, but he’s afraid speaking might break the air of confidence that floats off Akira in waves.

    Instead he tries to distract himself by tugging out his phone from his pants pocket, flipping it open to the last text that still sits open in his inbox.

 

_Akira_

_4:32pm_

_Hey Yusuke, I know you’ve been in a slump lately and I’ve been trying to think of ways I can help. I think I’ve got it figured out._

 

_Can you meet me at leblanc in an hour? I have a surprise for you._

 

    With Akira giving no sign of elaborating on the text, or the unmarked bag of small paint containers that sits half opened between them, Yusuke finds himself growing more and more confused as he taps the phone screen and watches it flick to black.

 

    “I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t understand. I have more than enough paints already. How are these supposed to help inspire me?”

 

    As if it were even possible, Akira’s grin stretches even wider, his eyes glinting with something mischevious that reminds Yusuke of when he’s just found a treasure chest in a palace. Yusuke watches as Akira shifts forward in his seat, leaning closer and closer to Yusuke until he can feel Akira’s warm breath on his cheek, Yusuke shivers, which he doesn’t entirely understand considering he’s fairly certain the room temperature has risen several degrees in the past few seconds, that’s the only explanation for his sweaty palms and the flush that he can feel rising on his cheeks. He thinks he might have to excuse himself, because obviously he must be getting sick, and it would be horribly unmannerly of him to give a cold to Akira when he had invited Yusuke over to give him a gift. He even gets so far as to clear his throat and lift one hand between them to excuse himself, when Akira finally speaks.

 

    “Yusuke… it’s not _just_ paint.” His voice sounds soft and warm in Yusuke’s ear, and when he glances over his eyes almost cross from Akira’s sheer proximity to his face. It’s only now that he notices the blush that creeps down Akira’s neck into the collar of his shirt, and perhaps Akira isn’t feeling well either? It would explain the strange text, and his unusual behavior.

 

    “I don’t understand. Akira, are you feeling alright? I’m not really sure why-”

 

    “-It’s _edible_ paint.” It’s spoken in a clandestine whisper, and this time Yusuke _does_ shiver, because Akira’s fingers have curled around his on the bag that sits between them, cool digits wrapping around his own and raising gooseflesh up his arm.

 

    “Then why would I want to paint with it?” He asks automatically, his brain still turning in knots trying to decipher what angle Akira is playing. And really, it’s only _reasonable_ that he should ask, because even though Akira means well, he’s not at all sure how new paints are meant to inspire him. Especially when there are so few pigments.

 

    Akira deflates slightly, puffing out his cheeks and reclining back onto his seat on the canvas. He’s giving Yusuke that look that usually means he’s missed some sort of social cue, and he’s beginning to think that maybe Akira had ulterior motives for giving him edible paints. He’s not even certain where Akira would find such a thing, Yusuke frequents every art store in the city several times a week, and he’s never even heard of paints that can be ingested. He hums in thought, racking his mind for reasons Akira may bought the paints for him- _unless._

 

    “Akira, does this have anything to do with you wanting me to eat more?”

 

    Yusuke smiles at his own cleverness, certain that he’s figured out Akira’s meaning behind the gift. He straightens his back a little and waits for Akira to congratulate him for figuring it out, watching the flint swirl of his eyes shift from to excitement to… confusion? That wasn’t supposed to happen.

 

    Akira blinks a few times before he sighs dejectedly and untangles his fingers from Yusuke, who only now realizes that they were still tangled between his own and the bag. His hand feels colder at the loss of Akira’s grasp, and he tries not to frown at the sensation as Akira raises his free fingers to run them through his black curls as if he’s thinking of what to say.

 

    “Yusuke, you don’t- I mean… they _are_ edible but that’s not really what I had in- I _mean_ to say, you’re supposed to _paint_ with them.”

 

    “I see…” Yusuke feels as if someone has plucked him up from a turbulent river and placed him into a tempestuous ocean, if anything, he’s even farther away from understanding why on earth Akira would buy him the paints. “I suppose that makes sense. What did you have in mind? Is the media edible as well?” He asks out of honest curiosity, eyes immediately glancing down to the canvas beneath them in confusion.

 

    The color drops from Akira’s face in an instant, and he looks as if he’s about to speak, before it returns in full intensity, his cheeks burning a concerning shade of red as he opens his mouth twice, just to close it with an audible click. Yusuke reaches forward a bit out of worry, and Akira waves away the concern, taking a few deep breathes before he straightens his back and speaks with the utmost sincerity.

 

    “Well… I was… that is- I figured… _I_ could be the canvas.”

 

    “But why would I-oh….” _Oh._ The light clicks on instantaneously, and Yusuke is immediately so overcome with inspiration that he can’t even smother the undignified breath that catches in his throat if he tries. “Why have I not thought of this before? It’s the perfect expression of living art, a flawless consummation of shape and movement- _Akira_ , this is brilliant.”

 

    “I… uhh… that works. So, where do we start?” Akira huffs, suddenly looking like this whole conversation was a lot harder than he anticipated it being.

 

    Yusuke isn’t sure why Akira had felt the need to beat around the bush, there’s nothing to be embarrassed of. If anything the idea was terribly thoughtful, Yusuke can’t imagine a better way to get out of his artistic slump than to turn one of his models into actual art, he’ll have to thank Akira later, for volunteering for such a thing, and for coming up with the idea. But for now, Yusuke is almost too excited to speak, automatically pushing up his sleeves and spilling the paints out of the bag, setting them in a neat row across the edge of the canvas mat.

 

    “Well, obviously the first thing to do would be to have you remove your shirt.”

 

    “Right. Right. Of course.” Akira mumbles, fingers already wrapping around the bottom of his sweater. He crosses his arms and begins to peel up the shirt, revealing a sliver of smooth pale skin that expands as he pulls it further over his torso.

Yusuke watches the fresh skin as it’s exposed to the air, tracing the light muscles of Akira’s stomach as he tries to decide what his theme will be and where on Akira he’ll start.

 

    Akira speaks again when the sweater is pulled halfway over his head, voice muffled by the shifting fabric, “This stuff comes off skin easily but I’m not so sure about clothes. You should probably take yours off too.”

 

    Oh. Yusuke thinks for a moment, watching where Akira has paused, completely still, with the sweater tangled around his face, as if waiting for a response.

“Yes. Of course. I suppose that does make sense.” Yusuke answers thoughtfully, working his own shirt up and over his shoulders. Akira has since been freed of his own shirt, now watching Yusuke curiously as he folds his shirt neatly and sets it to the left of the canvas.

 

    Yusuke takes a moment to look Akira up and down, tracing the curves and dips of his body with an artist’s eye before he unscrews the first paint cap and positions his fingers to frame in Akira’s torso.

 

    “So, where are the brushes?”

 

    “Brushes?” Akira repeats, head tilting to one side.

 

    “Brushes. For painting.”

 

    “I figured you could just use your fingers… was that wrong?” Akira asks in the most innocent possible way, legs crossed beneath him as his eyes shift from Yusuke, to the paints, back to Yusuke.

 

    “My… fingers?” Yusuke mutters, because surely Akira is joking. He looks over to where his bag would normally be had he came over after school and not been invited over by a spur of the moment text message.

 

    “Yeah. Like this.” Akira hums, his confidence seemingly returned as he leans marginally forward and picks up the container of black paint.

 

    Yusuke watches as he unscrews the paint cap, his tongue peeking out from between his lips in concentration as he sets it down on the floor between his knees. His eyes skip up to Yusuke’s and he smiles mischievously before raising his hands in a mock imitation of Yusuke and frames in the other man’s stomach. Yusuke snorts at the gesture, unamused as Akira dips two fingers into the black paint and stretch them towards Yusuke’s exposed stomach.

 

    There’s a short moment where both both pause, Yusuke scarcely daring to breath as Akira’s paint dipped fingers hover an inch from his bare torso. It only stretches another second like this before Akira presses his fingers to the skin of Yusuke’s ribs, his fingers cold and wet and eliciting a small gasp from Yusuke that shoots up his spine and settles in the base of his neck. Akira wastes no time in spreading the paint around his stomach, every few seconds humming to himself or tilting his head to get a better angle. During this time Yusuke practices sitting _very_ still, the sensation of Akira’s fingers gently swooping over his ribs occupying every part of his senses. He almost loses himself in the feeling, letting his eyes droop shut as Akira makes two dots above his belly button.

 

    After a moment Akira lets out a satisfied “done” and returns to his seat, his paint covered hand reaching up to subconsciously push up his glasses, leaving a wet smear of black on the bridge of his nose. This made him look like a kid, and Yusuke would probably find it endearing if he wasn’t still hyperfocused on the lingering feeling of Akira’s cool touches across his abdomen. He shakes the thought from his head and glances down, eyes squinting at the smudged canvas of black that covers his stomach.

 

    “What… is this?”

 

    “It’s Morgana.” Akira answers confidently, trying to wipe the black paint from his nose and instead smudging it down his lip. His tongue swipes out and tastes the black paint, and Akira gives a sheepish smile before muttering something about it tasting like chocolate.

 

    “It’s…this…. _Morgana?”_ Yusuke covers his own mouth with his hand, stifling a laugh as he tilts his chin down to get a better view of the stick figure Akira claims is in resemblance to their friend.

 

    Akira’s cheeks stain a light pink, contrasting against the black on his lips as he stammers out a response, “Yeah… so what?”

 

    “Akira, this is horrible.” Yusuke answers truthfully, and he almost has the decency to feel bad before Akira blanches and waves his painted hand in the air, a strip of black splattering onto the canvas.

 

    “Well, _you’re_ the artist. I was just giving an example.”

  
“I appreciate it.” Yusuke answers, and even though Akira’s is most definitely _not_ an artist, he does. The gesture was sincere, and Yusuke half closes his eyes for a moment, chasing the feeling of Akira’s fingers dipping over his ribs. “Now, I’ll need you to lay down.”


	2. Chapter 2

Yusuke narrows his focus on his art, ignoring the sun as it dips down across the small window occupying the far corner of Akira’s room. At some point the noise downstairs stops, the cafe door thumps shut and doesn’t reopen. He adjusts to the feeling of paint on his fingers, and even makes an offhanded comment on how the paint strokes will better match the organic nature of the art, in this case. 

It takes about an hour to convince Akira to stop squirming. Along with twelve requests, all similar to, “Akira, can you please hold still?” and each followed by Akira’s crackling response of, “I- can’t… it..  _ Tick-les-” _

 

    It’s not until he’s been painting for almost an two hours, that the first problem arises.

 

    Yusuke makes a disgruntled noise, caught somewhere between a hum and a deflated sigh as he raises his hands level to his eyes and tries to frame in Akira’s chest. 

 

    “Something wrong?” Akira answers quickly, his head still placed stilly on the floor, arms folded behind it as a pillow. He shut his eyes some time ago, and shortly after that he had stopped talking, Yusuke had assumed he fell asleep.

 

    “I… seem to have made a mistake.” Yusuke frowns, eyes lingering on a line that extends across Akira’s bare chest.

 

    There's a beat of silence between the two of them, as if the wrong response could cross some invisible boundary in their project. Akira speaks up first, voice steady.

 

    “So? Lick it off.” He doesn’t even open his eyes to answer, and Yusuke is sure that he has heard him wrong.

 

_     “What?” _ He asks incredulously, his hands dropping as he levels Akira’s motionless form with a disbelieving stare.

 

    “Yusuke, why do you think I bought  _ edible  _ paint. It comes off with a little saliva. Tell me how it tastes.”

 

    “I… Are you…” Yusuke swallows thickly, his hands twitching at his side as he sees Akira’s mouth lift from the corner of his eye, “Surely you aren’t…  _ serious?” _

 

    “Yusuke.” Akira sighs in an exasperated way, readjusting on the floor a bit in a way that suggests that Yusuke’s dilemma is of no concern to him. He sighs comfortably and Yusuke tries to still the erratic beating of his heart. This is ridiculous. There’s nothing wrong with correcting his mistake. He needs to finish the painting after all. This is okay. This is appropriate. This is  _ fine.  _

 

    “Alright.” 

 

    His voice cracks and he winces at the show of weakness, shifting on his knees until he is staring down the mistake, and Akira’s left pectoral. He glances up for a moment and catches sight of the corner of Akira’s jaw, his face upturned and relaxed in a way that screams of trust that Yusuke isn’t sure how he’s earned. He takes a long breath, focusing on filling his lungs with as much air as possible before exhaling lightly and lowering his mouth to Akira’s chest. He lets his mouth hover above Akira’s skin for a moment, warmth radiating from his skin and into Yusuke’s mouth. He can taste the sweet scent of Akira’s cologne on his lips, and he swears that he feels the other tense underneath him as he lowers his mouth the remaining inch and swipes his tongue directly over Akira’s left nipple. 

 

    Until this moment Akira had done an impressive job at maintaining his usual cool and casual veneer. Yusuke isn’t sure what he expected but it wasn't the sharp jerk of Akira’s chest against his mouth, and the sharp gasp that hissed from between his teeth. 

Also, as it turns out, the paint  _ does  _ come off with saliva, but it takes more work than Yusuke was anticipating. He lifts his mouth the first time to find that the red streak is still there, just a bit diluted, and immediately lowers his mouth back down without thought, swiping his tongue over Akira’s nipple another time with more pressure, as he works the paint off of the other boy’s skin. It tastes like strawberries. 

    Akira’s nipple hardens under the work of Yusuke’s tongue, and when pulls his mouth off the other boy’s chest with a wet sound, Akira makes a sharp noise that can barely be heard over his breathing, which seems to have picked up quite a bit. Yusuke only now notices his own catching breath, his tongue tingling, stained with the taste of strawberries and Akira. He tries to remind himself that he’s doing this for art, to create a perfect moving masterpiece, even though it means ignoring the unexpected urge to lean back down and taste Akira again.

 

    “Are you alright?” He asks shakily, his voice tight as he watches Akira’s closed off face for a reaction.

 

    “Grand. Just dandy.” Akira grits out between his teeth, his breath still catching audibly in his throat with each exhale. “That was… unexpected.”

 

    “You told me to lick it off.” Yusuke answers matter of factly, running a hand through his hair and returning to his position over Akira. He holds his hands back up and frames in the corrected painting, it’s fixed, at least.

 

    “You didn’t tell me  _ where  _ the mistake was.”

 

    “You didn’t ask.” 

 

    Both boys proceed a little more nervously after that, and it takes awhile for Yusuke to get back into the flow of painting. His hands seem to be more interested in feeling their way around Akira, much to his own chagrin. On top of the distraction of Akira’s endless supply of smooth porcelain skin, Yusuke has still not managed to get his breathing back under control, and it’s not long until his shaking hands make another mistake, this one right at the base of Akira’s throat. 

 

    If possible he hesitates even more this time, his eyes piercing daggers into the damning smudge of paint that travels halfway up Akira’s neck. 

 

    “You messed up again.” Akira states quietly, noticing Yusuke’s pause in his work. Yusuke nods silently, as if the gesture can be heard and understood outside of his own jumbled mind. 

 

    He’s not sure why this is getting so out of hand. In practice, this should have been a completely normal project, but each time Yusuke mixes a new color into Akira’s skin, he can feel the tension in the air sky rocket. He sighs defeatedly and positions his hands on each side of Akira’s head, leaning over him as he squeezes his eyes shut and leans forward. 

 

    Akira picks up on the location of the mistake and tilts his head to one side, exposing his whole neck for Yusuke’s mouth. He leans in and places his lips on the warm skin, and he can feel Akira’s erratic pulse against his tongue as he opens his mouth and tastes the wet paint on Akira’s neck. Akira gasps against the motion, and something curls in Yusuke’s stomach that almost makes him pant in turn. At some point he realizes that the paint has probably already been removed but he can’t stop his mouth from moving against Akira’s throat. He doesn't want it to stop but doesn't know how to ask for it to continue, instead leaving the pair in some sort unspoken limbo.

 

_     “Yusuke-” _ Akira breathes his name in a whisper like wine, and Yusuke feels his control snap as he opens his mouth wholly against Akira’s throat. His lips quickly travel from Akira’s neck, up to his jaw, and then to his mouth, where he pauses for a moment, eyes lingering on the black paint that travels across his lips and up his nose in an untidy streak. 

 

“What kind of modeling is this exactly?” Yusuke mumbles disbelievingly, his mind trying to rationalise how his artistic endeavor has turned into something else entirely.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry, you must have assumed that I’m a good model.” Akira replies glibly, his eyes half lidded and watching Yusuke with the sort of focus reserved for an artist observing their muse. 

 

“You have paint on your mouth.” Akira points out matter-of-factly, his voice soft and sincere all the while.

 

Yusuke reaches one finger up to his lip, his finger coming back smudged with blue. It must have gotten there when he was painting. 

 

“I must have wiped my mouth while I was working…” Yusuke puts the thought into words, watching the blue on his fingers as if it’s the most interesting thing in the room.

 

“You know… I could… clean it up for you.” Akira glances at Yusuke’s lips and then back to his eyes, and Yusuke rests his hand back on the canvas for support before daring to meet Akira’s stare.

 

Yusuke can feel his heart beating in his throat, his face locked an inch away from Akira’s as he struggles to form words that can navigate the conversation. Instead, all that comes out is a breathy, “You... “, before Akira hushes him with a sly look and lifts his chin marginally in a show of confidence.

 

“Yusuke, I’m a gentleman, so I’m going to tell you right now, that I’m about to kiss you.”

 

Yusuke’s eyes widen just in time for Akira to lean up, their lips pressing together once, chastely, before they part and his head thumps back against the floor. He only watches him for another moment before Yusuke shuts his eyes and leans forward again, Akira’s fingers twisting in his hair, tugging him closer until their teeth click together in a messy sort of kiss. 

 

    He’s not sure when his hunger to create turned into a hunger for Akira, but Yusuke feels himself falling into the taste of chocolate on Akira’s painted lips. At some point his sits back up, taking in the sight of Akira beneath him, red and black swirled along the contours of his muscles, lapping like water down his chest and receding around his heart where bright sunflower yellow, and white shoots out like light. The blinds on Akira’s curtains cast concentric slits across the room, making a pattern of gold tinted lines that arc across the floor and bathe him in dusky light. His chest rises and falls in shallow breaths, making the light refract and paint look like a second skin. As if Yusuke has peeled back a curtain and brought his insides to surface. 

 

    “You look beautiful.” Yusuke whispers, and Akira blushes beneath him, grey eyes bright enough to match the paint on his skin. 

 

    “Although…” Yusuke smirks, his eyes traveling down the master piece to pause at the waistband of his pants. “I seem to have run out of room.”

 

    Akira smiles brightly and props himself on his elbows, watching Yusuke with a hungry look as one hand moves to rest on his waistband. He chuckles before continuing with a voice that drips with coquettish humor. “We can always…expand the canvas?” 

 

    He finishes off the gesture with a sharp wink, and the expression is so endearingly Akira that Yusuke laughs a little to himself as he bends back down and captures Akira’s mouth in his own. The two stay like that for a moment, their hungry breaths swept up in each other as Akira’s hands fumble around the buttons on Yusuke’s pants. After some marginal struggling both pairs of pants lay discarded on one side of the canvas, decidedly less folded than Yusuke’s shirt. 

 

    Akira grabs Yusuke by the wrist and twists it up to place his palm upon his chest, Yusuke immediately flinching and pulling back to giving him a scathing look.

 

    “What?” Akira asks innocently, chewing on his lower lip while he levels the artist with a petulant look.

 

    “Akira… you’re going to  _ smudge  _ the  _ paint.” _ Yusuke levels him with an offended stare, and Akira has the decency to look ashamed. But then Yusuke reaches down and wraps one hand around Akira and gives him a long stroke, Akira jerking in his his grasp and gasping into Yusuke’s mouth before he swallows it up hungrily. 

 

    He rests one hand on Akira’s hip, the other he’s using to prop himself up, bodies resting rigidly against each other. Akira rolls his hips up and Yusuke gasps shakily, his mouth moving wordless against Akira’s, slick with spit, and Akira bites at his lower lip and pulls it into his mouth. Yusuke readjusts himself, one leg slung around each side of Akira’s waist, and for a moment he pushes himself up on his hands, arms framing Akira’s face like a perfect painting, eyes more black than grey, blown wide and watching him, black curls messily matted to his face, a dark halo fit for an angel of rebellion. 

   No combination of colors or paints can do him justice in this moment, and Yusuke dips down to kiss him once, slowly, putting all the desire he has tried to convey through his painting into the movement between them. 

    Akira gasps into the kiss and twists his fingers in the edges of the canvas, Yusuke’s hand now working him up and down quickly, fingers damps with precum and spit as he coaxes small breathy noises from the other boy’s mouth, his lips deliciously parted and mouthing Yusuke’s name like a prayer. Yusuke in turn breathes into the crook of his neck, praises of,  _ “Beautiful, beautiful, Akira, you’re so beautiful.”  _

 

    Akira smears his hand across the still wet paint, lowering it to Yusuke’s member and using it as lubrication, and the wet slide of his hand sends Yusuke over the edge, burying his face in Akira’s neck as he gasps out a few sharp breaths. Akira comes not long after, and Yusuke is left arched over him and trembling as both ride out their pleasure. 

    Yusuke rolls over onto the floor next to him and stares at the ceiling, Akira’s eyes squeezed shut as he focuses on taking long steady breaths. He looks even more beautiful after, with his sharp jaw flexing and his eyelashes fluttering lazily. Yusuke wonders for a moment if there is some way to stretch this moment on for forever, to fill his time, until time no longer exists and all he experiences is Akira, with no respites of interruptions.

 

    “I never got to finish my painting, you know.” He sighs tiredly, and Akira tilts his head to match his stare, lips turning up in one of those smiles that are so distinctly  _ him. _

 

    “There’s always next time.” He answers with a soft grin still smudged by paint, the prettiest hue of pink bridging his nose and dusting along his cheeks.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for all comments, kudos, etc! As always you guys are the best and any and all feedback is appreciated. This is just a one shot I had bouncing around in my head, idea thanks to some back and forth texting and mutual hard Shukita shipping with my partner! Follow me on tumblr at BiBoMo
> 
> A Note To My Followers:  
> Hey guys! I know I've been MIA for quite awhile. Honestly, I've had a lot going on and just haven't been able to find it in me to write. I promise I'll update my other stories soon, please don't give up on me, things have just been crazy. Thanks for your constant love and support and I hope you enjoyed this story!


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